Casebook 9: The Case Of The Strange Footprints
by TalepieceUK
Summary: From The Casebook Of Madame Vastra. Vastra and Jenny investigate a murder in the coastal village of Little Sundersley.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Case Of The Strange Footprints  
AUTHOR: Talepiece  
RATING: 12 cert.  
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny  
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra  
CONTINUITY: This is the first story in the third volume of Vastra and Jenny stories.  
DISCLAIMER: Own, I do not; sue, please do not.  
CREDITS: This story is based on R Austin Freeman's _The Man With The Nailed Shoes_, one of the Dr Thorndyke mysteries.  
NOTE: This is the first of four more Vastra and Jenny fics based on early detective stories. Ill-health and website woes scuppered my plan to write a Classic Who fic so apologies for the lack of posts in the break. I'm hoping to continue posting every month but there may be some delays depending on how I'm feeling.  
I've taken liberties with the Coroner's Court system in this story.  
POSTED: August 2014

* * *

While resting in the village of Little Sundersley, Madame Vastra and Miss Jenny Flint were surprised to find themselves assisting in the defence of a man of dubious past and questionable friends.

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint.  
London, 1950.

* * *

"What I am trying to say, my dear," Madame Vastra said, "is that you are not indestructible."

"And what I'm trying to say," her companion, Jenny Flint said, "is that neither are you."

The two women walked along the artificial gap cut through the cliffs of Little Sundersley. They had agreed to take a few weeks sabbatical; a coastal holiday to allow them both to recover from what had been a difficult - if exciting - year. Jenny had immediately thought of a week in Brighton and was somewhat surprised to have her friend and companion suggest some remote little village on the East Coast.

Little Sundersley was exactly as its name implied: small. Indeed, it could be described as much as an outpost of civilisation as any of Her Imperial Majesty's colonies. The place had an old-world charm and all of the old-world manners and customs associated with that. Jenny had never even heard of the place and in fairness, most people were of the same mind. Little Sundersley's tiny population may have doubled during the summer months but it still left the population some way below that of the streets where Jenny had grown up.

Most of those visitors came for the rugged landscape and the plentiful bird life that flapped and squawked above the plentiful sandy wasteland that passed for a beach. To Jenny's amazement, Vastra had announced that she had family, "of a sort," in the area and begged her companion's indulgence in booking tickets to the nearest railway station. Which was a good few miles and not a very pleasant cart ride away.

They had arrived, tired and in Jenny's case, somewhat annoyed, to find themselves installed in two small lodging rooms under the suspicious eye of the owner and housekeeper, Mrs Cartwright. At least the rooms were clean and well enough laid out, Jenny had said while her lover noted that each bed was large enough for two.

So they had settled into the lazy - and nosey - local life. Walking the cliffs and beach when the weather allowed it; visiting the nearby Eastwich and its market; spending lazy afternoons cuddled together in one just-about-big-enough bed or the other. Mrs Cartwright's demeanour had softened, not least thanks to Jenny's generosity of spirit and Vastra's generosity of purse, and the two women had been accepted into what passed for society in Little Sundersley and its environs.

Now they had only a week remaining of their stay and yet again Vastra was trying to persuade her companion that she was a mere human and not necessarily able to keep up with a Silurian warrior. Though she was careful not to use such words. In truth, Jenny loved her even more for trying but the fact that she wouldn't stop was beginning to grate on her windswept nerves.

"Then let us agree," Vastra said in a conciliatory tone, "that we shall both attempt to take better care of ourselves. Yes?"

Jenny grinned, pulling Vastra closer with a tug on the arm that she already held, "Yeah, that'd be about right. We have been a bit daft this past year. Doing stuff that wasn't so smart, I mean."

"You are correct, my dear," Vastra smiled down at her through the heavy lace of her veil.

They walked on along a stretch of beach that showed little human passage but plenty of bird tracks. It really was quite pretty, Jenny thought as she looked out over the expanse of what she had learned was the North Sea. She'd never been further than Brighton before and that only for one day when she was a girl. Her Uncle had taken her there after he'd had a "particularly good few days". Jenny now understood that he'd pulled a big job and wanted to celebrate. It didn't detract from her love for him or that day; he had wanted to celebrate it with her after all.

"Madame?" Jenny said suddenly.

"My dear," Vastra said, somewhat distracted.

"When do I actually get to meet this family of yours?" Vastra's attention was focused a little way off at a patch of sand that was considerably more disturbed than most. Jenny had to tug on her arm to shift her focus, "You alright?"

"I am, my dear, forgive me. I was studying these footprints," Vastra indicated the patch of sand with a flick of her hand, "There is generally so little activity along these stretches of beach; the bird watchers," she hesitated over the phrase, still a little perplexed by the pastime, "usually stationing themselves a little higher on the cliffs."

"Could have been a group of walkers."

"No, I believe not, for there are no tracks further on and these two tracks were made some interval apart. Several hours at least," Vastra added as she peered down at the footprints.

"You really have been studying up, haven't you?"

Vastra straightened and turned to Jenny, "I have and Little Sundersley has been an excellent testing ground for my new-found knowledge."

"As long as you've enjoyed it," Jenny said indulgently.

"You have not, my dear?" Vastra said, failing to hide her disappointment.

"Oh, I have. Honestly," Jenny grinned at her, "it might not be the place I'd have chosen but it's a lovely little village and the locals have been surprisingly welcoming, I'd say. And this time with you, without cases and clients and grisly murders has been wonderful."

"I am pleased," Vastra said and pulled Jenny into a brief hug.

As she pulled back, Jenny said, "So, what else do these footprints tell us?"

"That one man, a fisherman, passed this way not more than a few hours ago but the other man, who appears to have come up from a boat to fetch something of considerable weight, returned through the gap at least four hours ago."

"Blimey," Jenny said, "it's like reading the tea leaves."

Vastra raised herself dramatically and Jenny laughed, "You tease me, my dear."

"I do, Madame, I do."

They walked on a little way and Jenny asked Vastra to explain her deductions. She listened carefully, trying to take in all the details before shaking her head in wonder.

"So it all comes down to the size of the boot, the length of the stride and the depth of the print?"

"Quite so," Vastra smiled beneath her veil, proud that her companion could take in such things so deftly, "Additionally, the depth of the footprint at toe and heel can indicate the posture of the walker."

"And you got the times from where they were in relation to the tide marks and where high water was a few hours ago and a few further back again? Clever that."

"I thank you," Vastra said and lead them away from the fascinating patch of sand.

They walked on a little and headed for another path that cut through the cliff and back towards the village. The locals called it Shepherd's Path and it rose high and steep up to the top of the cliff before dropping back down a little to the village itself or branching off to various smaller hamlets and farms.

It was getting late in the season now and most of the walkers and bird watchers had returned to their daily lives, to the bustle of the cities or the boredom of the towns and villages of England. It was not deserted though, as a group of men came into sight just ahead of them. There was the local Police Sergeant, Dr Burrows the local GP and a burly fisherman shrouded in sou'wester and sea boots. Behind them were two Constables bearing a stretcher.

The fisherman appeared to be leading the group in something of a diffident manner. He nodded as Sergeant Poole asked him something and half turned to point back down the beach from whence Vastra and Jenny came. The Sergeant caught sight of the women and looked uncertain for a moment before the fisherman said something and the group turned back towards the Path.

"Some poor sod's taken a tumble," Jenny said as they watched the men walk away.

The beach narrowed and arched around a small headland and Vastra and Jenny turned with it to find the party halted in a narrow bay, staring down at the prostrate form of a man. Dr Burrows was kneeling in the sand at the man's side while the Sergeant talked to the fisherman and the stretcher-bearers waited a few yards away.

"I fear he has not tumbled, my dear," Vastra said, "for he is lying above the high-water mark."

"Those footprints were his then?" Jenny asked.

Vastra did not have a chance to respond as they came upon the little group and the Sergeant waved them to a halt.

"Ladies, I'm afraid I really must ask you to remain there for this is no sight that you should see."

Dr Burrows laughed, saying, "Haven't you heard? This is The Great Detective herself, Poole, and her colleague Miss Flint besides."

The Sergeant appeared sceptical but even the fisherman seemed to know of the couple's great fame. The two Constables were now craning their necks to look back at the women. Jenny refrained from commenting on the fact that only the local constabulary seemed unaware of their profession. Typical Bobbies, always the last to get a clue.

"So much for no mysteries," Jenny said under her breath before speaking up, "Anything we can help with, gents?"

The Sergeant bristled but Burrows pointed to the body and said, "It's right up your alley, ladies; certainly murder. You'll notice the knife wound bare inches above the heart."

"Death within but a few seconds, Doctor?" Vastra said.

"Exactly."

"And no sign of the knife nearby so not done by his own hand," Jenny added and noticed that the Sergeant's expression had shifted from annoyance to wonder.

"He's quite stiff and cold too," Burrows went on, "so he's been dead a good twelve hours at least."

"Not good for him, alas," Vastra pointed out.

Jenny considered the body carefully. She might not be The Great Detective herself but she'd seen more than her share of dead bodies in her lifetime. This one was a man of about thirty-five years, thin and frail-looking almost to the point of emaciation. He lay in an easy slump with half-closed eyes and an unusually relaxed posture for a murder victim.

Vastra allowed her gaze to shift to the surrounding area and noted the footprints with interest. There were scuff marks all around the body and at first sight it appeared that the man had put up quite a fight. One set of prints was particularly interesting. They appeared to be the hob-nailed boots of a labourer but there was something odd about the pattern of nails.

The Sergeant was studying them too and making detailed notes in his little pocketbook. He leaned low over the strange prints and frowned.

"Sporting shoes, I believe," Vastra said, "Notice the unusual diamond-shaped pattern and the lack of iron tips at toe and heel."

"Shooting boots, perhaps?" the Sergeant said and raised a brow towards Vastra.

"Indeed."

They straightened up just as the Doctor stood from beside the body and the Sergeant said, "The deceased gentleman - a Mr Hearn - appears to have been walking home from Port Marston. Nate here," he indicated the fisherman, "saw the footprints along the shore as I'm certain you ladies must have done also; the rubber heels make them easy to identify."

Vastra nodded, "His murderer must have known he was coming then, Sergeant, and been keeping a lookout."

"Quite right, Madame. He saw Mr Hearn enter the bay, came down the path and attacked. There was quite a struggle by the looks of it and then the murderer stabbed poor Hearn before returning up the path. You can see the double tracks up between there and here, though I'm afraid they won't last long as you go up higher, for the ground gets very hard in places."

Vastra nodded as if in full agreement with the man but Jenny sensed her doubt. Still, they bid the group goodbye as the Doctor, fisherman and stretcher party left to return to the village directly and the Sergeant excused himself to hurry off up the path and follow any possible tracks.

Jenny waited a moment until they had all dispersed before she looked up at Vastra, whose head remained tilted in consideration of the area where the late Mr Hearn had lain.

"You're not so sure, Madame?"

"I am not, I confess."

"Best we get on up after the Sergeant then and have a look at these tracks." Vastra turned now and smiled through the lace of her veil. Jenny rolled her eyes but said nothing until they were climbing the path when she added, "The Sarge seems like a good man."

"I believe so, quite intelligent given his profession. I would dearly like to take a look into that notebook of his but I do fear he has made an error in his assumptions."

Jenny made to offer to lift the pocketbook at the first opportunity but thought better of it. Instead, she said, "Just how much have you missed this business then?"

"I cannot think what you mean, my dear."

"Oh, aye," Jenny muttered but could say no more as they came upon the Sergeant studying yet more footprints.

Despite the Sergeant's fears, they were plentiful and quite clearly delineated, the ground being largely sandstone and hence not too hard to take the prints. Most of the rock had been softened by the weather and was patchy with dry herbage, only a few areas were too hard to show the markings as the tracks rose with the path which zigzagged its way up the cliff towards the top.

The softer rock showed several clear prints of the unusually nailed shoes, though many were now obliterated by the Sergeant's newer - and also hob-nailed - boots. The sagacious officer was skulking up and down the short expanse of path that held the clearest tracks, head bent low and attention absolute.

After a few minutes of Vastra and Jenny watching the man work, his head jerked up suddenly and he stared at the ladies in surprise.

"Heavens, ladies," he said in embarrassment, "but I didn't see you there at all."

"You were most enthralled in your work, Sergeant," Vastra said.

"I was bemoaning the lost tracks as they move on, Madame," he indicated the path a little further up, "They stop just there, I'm afraid."

"So there's no way to know where the murderer came from or went too," Jenny said, genuinely sorry for the man.

"None at all!"

"The dead man, Sergeant," Vastra said, "this Mr Hearn. Was he a local?"

The Sergeant joined them, depositing his notebook in the inside pocket of his uniform coat.

"He was not, Madame. He'd been staying over the summer due to having a friend resident in the area."

"And who would that -" Jenny began but she was interrupted by the loud hails of a man from above them on the path.

They all turned to look as a tall, athletic man of some forty years hurried towards them. He wore the Norfolk knickerbockers of a country gent and had the appearance of a man not used to being troubled by a great deal, though he seemed to be quite troubled now.

"Mr Draper," the Sergeant greeted the man.

"Is it true, Sergeant Poole? About poor Mr Hearn?" Draper asked urgently. His face was pale with concern, his eyes darting along the path and between the small group. "He's been murdered?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr Draper, and I offer you my deepest condolences."

"Dear God. Oh, do forgive me, ladies."

"Not at all, Mr Draper," Vastra said and extended her hand, "Our condolences also."

"Yes," he said, taking her hand in a limp grasp, "yes, yes, of course. Ah, thank you, I mean."

"I was just coming to speak with you, Sir," the Sergeant said in a formal tone.

"Me?" Draper's skin grew more pallid still, "Whatever for?"

"Well, you were a friend of the deceased, Sir, and I have a few questions."

"Oh no," Draper's hands flapped around in panic, "no, I really didn't know Hearn that well at all. A mere acquaintance, nothing more."

You're going to get yourself nicked, Jenny thought as the man's panic grew. The Sergeant was having much the same thought and he pushed Draper on the subject, receiving less and less convincing responses each time.

"No, Sir," the Sergeant said in a firm tone, "I really must insist that you and I have a little chat about this now. We can escort the ladies back up to the top of the path and then go on to your cottage, eh?"

Draper had no choice but to agree and they moved off, making the steepening climb up the path in single file. After a few minutes, they came to a little patch of boggy ground created by a sharp dip in the cliff's side and the often heavy rainfall in the area. It had been a surprisingly dry summer and now what the Sergeant referred to as a pond was merely a narrow isthmus of half-dried mud.

Draper was leading the way and though he attempted to step clean over the thin patch of wetter ground, his shoe caught the edge and left a deep imprint. The Sergeant, immediately behind Draper and ahead of the two women, glanced down at the print and veered off his intended route dramatically.

Vastra swerved too and pulled Jenny with her. The two women overtook the Sergeant as he stood, eyes locked on the print. Jenny did her best to get a good look and still keep her footing as she followed Vastra around the muddier ground.

"Blimey," she whispered to Vastra as they caught up with Draper.

The man remained entirely unaware that he had sealed his fate. The imprint that he had left so clearly in the mud appeared to be an exact match for the unusually patterned shoes of the murderer.

"Mr Draper!" the Sergeant called out from behind them all, "Mr Draper, perhaps you're right." Draper stopped, turned to cast a terrified gaze on the officer and then relaxed as the Sergeant continued, "Perhaps it would be best if you got back to your cottage tonight and I talked to you tomorrow. It's been a hard knock for you, I'm sure."

"You're very kind, Sergeant Poole," Draper said with a glow of relief, "Very kind indeed."

With that, the Sergeant excused himself and all-but ran up the cliff, turning before the top to scramble the last few yards and run back to the village. Vastra and Jenny exchanged knowing looks but said nothing as Draper composed himself and then offered to walk them to the top of the cliff.

"I thank you, Mr Draper," Vastra said, "but you must be tired after such a day and I would not wish to detain you further."

Jenny winced at the use of the word "detain" but smiled to hide it as Draper took his leave and rushed away.

"You think he'll make a run for it?"

"The good Sergeant must think not and he appears to know his business. Though this is a singular case, my dear, and I rather fear it's more complex even than Sergeant Poole believes."


	2. Chapter 2

See Part One for story details.

Jenny closed the newspaper and sat back in the armchair that occupied one corner of their rooms. Little Sundersley was so far away from any main town that it took two days for the newspapers and letters to reach them so it was hardly today's news but she had enjoyed the hour spent browsing through it.

Jenny had been particularly interested to read that the underground railway expansion was continuing at a pace and was now expected to be completed early. She was intrigued by this strange new way to get around the city, though Jenny had never yet used the underground itself. From what little Jenny knew of Vastra's people, she expected that her companion would be most at home beneath the ground.

Her enjoyment had faltered, however, when she had come upon an article about the resumption of those terrible attacks in the heart of the city.

"We really must look into that," she said to herself.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and Jenny called out to bring the little maid into the room. She bobbed a curtsey, making Jenny both uncomfortable and oddly pleased, and waited just inside the room.

"Sorry to be in the way, Miss, but Sergeant Poole's downstairs and asking for you both. What should I tell him, Miss?"

"Tell him I'll be down directly, Letty."

The girl bobbed again but remained in the room, edging forward a little, "It'll be about this murder, will it? Can't believe it; Mr Draper, such a nice man him. And there's been a theft, right here too!"

"Theft?"

"Aye, Mrs Cartwright's best hamper's only gone and disappeared. Not happy, she is, not happy at all."

Jenny struggled to keep a straight face as she dismissed the girl. She bustled about the room for a moment, thinking of Vastra up at Sundersley Gap, hefting a large quantity of plaster of Paris around in Mrs Cartwright's best hamper.

They had returned to the village the previous afternoon and separated while Jenny purchased a few small items at what passed for Little Sundersley's general store. To her surprise, she had found a heavily laden Vastra waiting for her when she left the chatty owner's company. Three large, wrapped parcels weighed even Vastra down and quite put Jenny off making an offer of assistance.

On returning to their lodgings, a hamper of good solid construction had magically appeared in their room and was quickly filled with Vastra's newest investigative toolkit. Jenny was vaguely disappointed that Vastra hadn't invented some ridiculous - and wonderful - device for doing the same thing but Vastra insisted that the plaster would serve quite nicely.

That was why Jenny had spent a lazy morning in their rooms, writing to Lucy and then reading the newspaper; Vastra was up on the cliff with nothing but Mrs Cartwright's best hamper, large quantities of gypsum and her curiosity to keep her happy.

Downstairs, Jenny greeted the Sergeant with a smile and an apology, explaining that Vastra had taken an early morning walk but hoping that she alone might be of assistance.

"Well, yes and no, Miss," he lowered his voice and his head, leaning into Jenny to say, "For I've arrested Mr Draper, you see, and he's asked for you two ladies to assist in his defence."

"Oh, we're not usually bought in for that. Still, I'm sure that Madame Vastra would be happy to speak with Mr Draper on this matter. Is it to be kept a secret?"

The Sergeant straightened once more, embarrassed by his behaviour, "No, no, Miss, it's just," he shrugged, "Well, Mr Draper's well liked here abouts and this business is hard enough on everybody without it being one of our own, so to speak."

"Mr Draper has always lived here?"

"Oh no, not always but for many a year now and he's a good man. Well," again he appeared embarrassed, "I'd have said he was."

"All sorts of people are driven to all sorts of things, Sergeant," Jenny said before adding, "And everyone deserves a fair defence so, yes, Madame Vastra and I will be at the Police House as soon as the Madame returns from her walk."

The Sergeant took his leave and Jenny returned to their rooms to find Vastra already there. She was mud splattered and dusty with white powder but appeared quite pleased with herself. Mrs Cartwright's best hamper would have to be demoted, though; it too was mud splattered and covered in powder.

"You get what you wanted?"

"I did, my dear, I thank you."

"Might come in handy. The Sergeant's just been here, asking that we come and see Mr Draper. He wants us to run his defence, I think. Draper, not the Sergeant," she added quickly.

"Indeed?" Vastra considered for a moment and then said, "That might be for the best, my dear, for I believe I have found an inconsistency in the evidence."

Some twenty minutes later, they were being shown into a spare office at the back of the Police House. Mr Draper, rather than being kept in a cell of the usual kind, had been installed in a surprisingly commodious room with an equally surprising lack of security imposed. Jenny smiled at Vastra, who seemed quite taken aback by it all.

Draper was even paler than he had been the day before but somewhat more composed in his speech and eminently communicative as he bid them sit at the small table and begged that they might help him to prove his innocence.

Vastra held up her hand to stem the tide of his words, "Pray, Mr Draper, we must come to an agreement before you begin."

"I'll pay you whatever you want, Madame -" he began but Vastra interrupted again.

"It is not finance to which I refer but to our collective handling of this matter. To wit, Miss Flint and I require that you speak without reservation and concealment while being exact in the details."

"I most certainly will be, Madame, I assure you. Perhaps I might ask one thing of you, though?" At Vastra's nod, he said, "That you will endeavour to keep the details of what I now say between us and us alone. As much as possible, of course, for I know it will be difficult to salvage my reputation from this whole business but, still, I should like to try to do so, as best as possible."

"We'll not go blabbing, you have our word, Mr Draper," Jenny said.

"Though we can make no promises; your defence may depend on the information that you impart in this meeting," Vastra added.

Draper nodded, made to speak and then seemed paralysed to do so. Jenny took pity on him, "I see they've taken your shoes, Sir?"

Draper glanced down at his slipper-shod feet and nodded sadly, "Sergeant Poole took them as soon as he arrested me. It seemed to be rather important to him."

"It is," Vastra said, "And to you also."

"They're unusual shoes," Jenny said, "The pattern on the soles, I mean."

"They are, yes. I had them made for me up in Edinburgh. They use a rather different technique to most places and a very different pattern to the nails too."

"You have but one pair?" Vastra asked.

"I do. Or, at least, I did," Draper said. After a moment of silence, he said, "I suppose I should tell you everything then?"

"Please do and be specific but succinct, if you please."

Draper took a moment more to compose himself and them began his story, "I am, ladies, if you will forgive my language, an 'Old Lag'."

Jenny started, wondering if the man even knew what the phrase meant, "You've done hard time?"

"I have, Miss Flint; seven years penal servitude for the crimes of forgery and theft."

"Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Mr Draper," Vastra prompted.

"I was a bank clerk in London and getting on quite as well as could be expected in my position when I had the misfortune to meet with four undesirable types. Four men of a little over my own age who at first seemed to welcome me into their company. They were, as the saying goes, as thick as thieves.

"They were not fast in the usual sense, indeed they appeared quite sober and well behaved, but they gambled, ladies, on anything about which a bet might be laid. I fell into their habits but not, alas, their happy knack of winning on my wagers and I quickly found myself in significant debt.

"At first they were understanding but that did not last -"

"It rarely does," Jenny muttered.

"I was chiefly indebted to my four friends - of the names Leach, Pitford, Hearn and Jezzard - all of whom had become aware of my one remarkable gift in life: that of the replication of other people's hand. It was a talent that I had developed as a schoolboy and it had been employed chiefly in the making of mischief. I had certainly never used it for anything of a criminal nature."

"But that's what they wanted from you," Jenny said.

"It was indeed. I had access to blank cheque forms, which are often left about during a busy day at the bank, and I had the skill to forge those into presentable cheques. I protested most strongly at first but my debts accrued and the pressure, particularly from Jezzard, increased.

"I assure you, ladies, that I made out these cheques to no more than a few pounds each. I also forged the signature of a known account holder and then simply handed them to Jezzard, who was able to stamp them with the account number thanks to his own contrivance."

"And how long did this go on for, Mr Draper?" Vastra said when the man hesitated.

"For some months, Madame. What I did not know at the time was that the small sums originally used were altered on all of the cheques to much larger amounts, some hundreds of pounds in each case."

"And how did you get caught?" Jenny asked.

"Ah," Draper sighed, "One of the cheques was presented on an account that was already slightly overdrawn. The cashier became suspicious, the cheque was impounded and the account holder questioned. After that, the whole unravelled and, of course, lead directly back to me.

"I lost my nerve, as you might expect of a man like myself, and confessed all. Jezzard was questioned but released due to insufficient evidence and the other two were not even seen by the Police. I was sentenced and served my time as best I could.

"In the intervening years, an Uncle of mine overseas passed away and I inherited as his sole beneficiary. It was quite a considerable sum, ladies, and I determined to find myself a quiet corner of this country and live my life as the reformed character that I consider myself to be."

Draper stopped, head lowered for a moment before he lifted his eyes and considered the women hopefully, "So you understand why I would not wish to have this information made public knowledge, ladies?"

"We do, Mr Draper," Vastra said, "but there is more, is there not?"

Draper sighed again, "There is, Madame. I saw nor heard a thing of my former friends and thought little of them, in truth. That is, until a month ago when I was spending the day in Eastwich.

"At about eleven in the forenoon I happened to notice two gentleman who seemed oddly familiar. They were both dressed smartly, in horsey fashion, one wore an eyeglass, the other had a large mole on his face. It was those features that convinced me that these men were not, in fact, Jezzard and Leach, though they bore a definite resemblance otherwise.

"When I looked again, they were gone and I thought little more of it until later that day when I was walking by the river before returning to the station. A yacht - The Otter - past by, being towed downriver my three men, each with a grip on the towline."

"Your friends," Jenny said, twisting the word.

"Indeed. Hearn didn't recognise me at first, for I have changed greatly in the intervening years, but Jezzard did and he exclaimed his surprise, alerting the others to my identity.

"I made it quite clear that I would bear no acquaintance with them and walked away. Two days later, I heard that forged cheques had been presented around Eastwich by two well-dressed, gentlemen farmers and knew that they continued in their criminal ways."

"They'd found a new forger?" Jenny said.

"They had not I believe, for the cheques were reproduced by photographic process and the watermarks skillfully, though not perfectly, replicated.

"The very next day, as I walked down to Port Marston, I bumped into Jezzard and Leach and the former made it quite clear that he thought me responsible for the forged cheques. I was flabbergasted, as you might imagine, and made to leave but just at that very moment, the butcher was walking past and stopped to inform me that he would be in Little Sundersley the next day and would make his delivery at noon.

"Jezzard overheard, of course, and I fear my fate was sealed; Jezzard demanded that I return to my old ways. I know, ladies, that I should have reported them immediately but I was - and I remain - terrified of Jezzard, who is quite the nastiest of the group.

"Indeed, Hearn himself was so afraid of Jezzard's worsening moods that he decided to take a cottage onshore, just to be away from the man. That, I fear, is what cost him his life. Well," Draper shook his head, "that and quite the worst piece of luck in this whole sorry business."

"Bad luck, Mr Draper, how so?" Vastra said.

"A few evenings back, Hearn visited with me, ostensibly to demand that I help them but actually to make me an offer. He said that he wished to rid himself of Jezzard and the others, that the former in particular was an evil man and cunning as the devil. To make a clean break he would require money, either a lump sum or an annuity. His offer was thus: I provide him with enough money to ensure his future comfort and he would turn King's Evidence and ensure that we would both be free of the other men.

"I was amazed, as you can no doubt imagine but, I admit, tempted by the proposal, for it seemed the only way to be free of these men whilst retaining my own place in Little Sunderlsey."

"So you agreed?" Jenny said.

"I did but then the ill luck befell us both. We had been sitting outside in the little garden of my own cottage, a garden hemmed in by a tallish hedge. Just as I made to accept Hearn's offer, a sound came from the other side, that of a suppressed sneeze perhaps. Hearn was most agitated, as was I, and we hurried out of the garden to investigate. There was no sign of anyone but we both felt sure that someone had been listening.

"I suggested that it might have been one of the local boys playing summer pranks as they are want to do but Hearn was quite convinced that it was Jezzard and left in a terrible state."

"Was that the last time you saw this Mr Hearn?" Vastra said.

"It was not, for I saw him last evening also. He came to my door asking that I join the men on The Otter. I refused but the poor man pleaded that I do so and I finally acquiesced on the understanding that I would be home by ten."

"Why ten exactly?" Vastra said.

"Because my housekeeper was away yesterday evening, visiting with her sister in Eastwich and I did not want the house left empty too long. Hearn agreed and rowed me out to the yacht, which had been moved out to a buoy in the harbour. It was a pleasant enough evening and I was greatly relieved by the implication that they were to leave the area soon.

"At a little after nine I insisted that I must leave and Pitford rowed me back to shore. Hearn wanted to join me but Jezzard demanded that he remain to discuss some business or other. I returned to shore and walked home."

"By what route, Mr Draper?"

"I came through the town and along the path, Madame. I was home just before ten and went to bed immediately."

"And you saw nothing of the men after that?"

"Nothing, I assure you."

"And those shoes, Sir," Jenny said, "did you take them off last evening when you were on this yacht?"

Draper was surprised by the question but said, "Not last evening, no, for I remembered to don more appropriate footwear on that occasion."

"Remembered?" Vastra prompted.

"Well, yes, this time I did. You see the first time the men had me on the yacht - quite early on in this business - I wore my customary attire; those shoes that the Sergeant was so interested in. Jezzard chastised me and I had to wear a spare pair of canvas shoes that were less prone to scratch their precious deck."

Jenny raised a brow to Vastra, who said, "And did these shoes remain in your possession?"

"No!" Draper shook his head, "Jezzard took them below and returned them to me as I left."

"Was this Jezzard away long when he took them?" Jenny said.

"Surprisingly long, as I recall, though I assumed he'd been talking to the lad they'd hired to keep the boat tidy while they were moored here."

Draper looked to the women expectantly but Vastra stared off for a long moment and Jenny could only offer the man a friendly smile. Eventually, Vastra seemed to make up her mind and gave a sharp nod of decision before speaking.

See Part One for story details.

"Very well, Mr Draper. You are willing to swear that this is all you know of the case, yes?"

"It is, Madame, I assure you."

"And you will allow us free reign in the case, on the understanding that we will do everything in our power to prevent knowledge of your past from surfacing?"

"Absolutely I will. Do you really believe you can free me without this whole sorry business coming out?" Draper said, hope flaring in his heavy eyes.

"I believe so. There is but one more question for you to answer: do you simply wish to be released from this charge or do you want us to prove that Jezzard and Pitford were behind the murder?"

Draper rocked back in his seat, his eyes now wide, "Could you really do that, Madame?"

Can we? thought Jenny but she studied Vastra carefully and knew that her companion believed that they could with absolute certainty.

"Yes," was all Vastra offered in reply.

"Well," Draper considered the question, his pale hands fidgeting for the first time since he began. After a long pause, he looked up and said, "I believe I could bear a few more days in here, if you could free me of these men for good."


	3. Chapter 3

See Part One for story details.

Jenny sat down heavily, tired and sore from three days of frantic - and sometimes alarming - activity. Not, alas, the frantic activity that she had had in mind when she and Vastra first set out for their summer break but certainly enlightening.

She suspected that there was a strong scent of the sea about her person and feared that the two men sitting alongside her were aware of it. They were certainly aware of the green tinge that still coloured her cheeks after a rough passage back to land and they looked at her in some alarm.

Jenny ignored them and studied Vastra, whom she had seem little of for this past few days. Her companion was talking to Dr Burrows, who appeared just as exasperated as he had been the last time Jenny laid eyes on him.

They had left Draper's makeshift cell to find Sergeant Poole waiting for them, ready to inform them that a hastily arranged autopsy would be carried out by the doctor himself. Vastra had insisted on attending and after a few hurried words to Jenny, had left with the Sergeant.

Jenny had gone about her business as instructed, disappointed that the weather was getting up but aware that it would help them to keep Jezzard and the others nearby; the harbour being closed when the seas became too rough. She had returned to the surgery some two hours later to find Dr Burrows driven to distraction by Vastra's demands for a full and rigorous examination of the body.

"Really, Madame," Burrows had said, "how much more obvious must the cause of death be? The poor man was stabbed in the chest!"

"Nevertheless, Doctor Burrows, I must insist that you allow me to send the samples for further examination and that the Coroner's hearing be delayed until a fuller investigation can take place," Vastra replied in a hard tone.

When the Doctor had acquiesced and hurried away with what was left of his dignity, the two women walked to Port Marsden.

"You've bought us a bit of time then?" Jenny said.

"Indeed, though it is more than that."

At the harbour, they had found a secluded spot where they could consider The Otter and what little activity was obvious upon it. A smack-master's apprentice had been engaged to keep the yacht afloat and tidy while moored and the young lad could be seen fastening ropes and no doubt battening hatches as the weather grew worse still. After some time, Vastra lead Jenny away from the harbour and out to a small bay some distance from human habitation and it was there that she had finally met Vastra's 'cousins'.

Now at the little village hall that had been laid out for the Coroner's hearing, everyone was settling down. The Coroner entered and the room rose as one, waiting for the small but nevertheless imposing man to take his seat behind the table set at the head of the room. Two chairs to his right held secretaries and a chair to his left remained empty. The gallery was a semi-circle of chairs on the opposite side of the room with two Constables - almost Little Sundersley's entire complement - stationed behind Draper off at one end of the room and the line of jurymen on the other. The witnesses sat in the seats at the front of the gallery where they could easily move to take the 'stand' as it were.

The Coroner gave his opening remarks, laying out for the record what matter he was here to consider and what form the hearing would take. The jury was not here to convict Draper, he explained, simply to determine whether there was a case to answer with a verdict of unlawful killing. The formalities dragged on but the crowded gallery remained enthralled throughout; this terrible incident was the most interesting thing that had happened in Little Sundersley for many a year.

Jenny looked around the room, taking in Vastra's stiff back, the hunched figure of Mr Draper in the accused's 'box' and then Jezzard and Pitford, both of whom had been called as witnesses as to the relationship between Hearn and Draper. The weather had remained poor all week and it hadn't only been Jenny who had kept an eye on them. So, much as the men might have wished to abscond, they had been forced to remain.

The Coroner bought matters to order and the first witness was called to speak. Sergeant Poole took the seat beside the table, swore his oath as directed by one of the court secretaries and proceeded to lay out the details of how Hearn's body had been found, the ensuing investigation and the apprehension of Edward Draper. It was all familiar to Jenny and she felt herself being lulled to sleep until the noise in the court rose and she shook herself awake to find Dr Burrows giving his evidence.

"I attempted to assure the accused's representative," here the doctor cast Vastra a long look, "that the cause of death was quite obvious; that being a knife-wound which had almost divided the arch of the aorta. The lady, however, insisted that the body be weighed and each organ, even the brain, be examined to give a true account of the man's death. I admit, I became facetious and suggested an examination for the tubercle bacillus in case Hearn had died of tuberculosis."

"I understand certain specimens were provided for the examination of these representatives," the Coroner said in a dismissive tone.

"Indeed they were but really Sir, entirely without foundation for I can offer up the cause of death most clearly from my own considerations alone."

"Then pray do, Doctor."

"Mr Hearn died of a penetrating wound to the chest, apparently inflicted with a large knife. The weapon entered between the second and third ribs on the left side, close to the sternum or breast-bone. It wounded the left lung and partially divided both the pulmonary artery and the aorta, the two principal arteries of the body."

"And such an injury is sufficient to cause death?" the Coroner said

"Oh yes."

"Could the wound have been self-inflicted, Doctor?"

"It could not; death would have occurred in but a few moments and so the weapon, had it been employed by the victim himself, would have been found close to the body. There was no sign of any such weapon and therefore the wound could not have been self-inflicted."

Under further questioning, Burrows corroborated the Sergeant's testimony concerning the crime scene and was followed by the fisherman who, in his embarrassed, bumbling way did the same. Jenny had been watching Jezzard and the big man was looking more relaxed by the moment. Draper on the other hand, was curling into himself as the weight of evidence piled upon him. The past few days must have been torture for the man and Jenny hoped they could pull this off without Jezzard and Pitford giving away all of Draper's secrets. They were relying on the men being too concerned for their own necks but desperate men could not be trusted on even that.

Jenny didn't have time to worry more as Vastra was called to the stand and there was a buzz of excitement from the crowded room. The Coroner's gavel called the place to order and Vastra was sworn in. She had placed two large manilla folders on the table in front of the Coroner and Mrs Cartwright's hamper at her feet. The owner of the basket gave a gasp of shock and muttered darkly to her neighbours.

Vastra sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes studying the people as they gawped at her. Her gaze lingered on Jenny's tired and pale face and she yet again regretted that her companion's health had suffered due to their work.

She remembered with some pride Jenny's calm demeanour during her first encounter with Vastra's so-called cousins. The walk out of the harbour to the little bay had been made in silence, largely because they were fighting against the stiffening breeze and the chilling air. A storm would be upon them soon enough and that would both help and hinder Draper's cause. The bay was secluded even in good weather and now seemed quite remote as the wind buffeted them. Vastra lifted her veil over her hat and took Jenny's hand in her own.

She made a series of strange, high-pitched sounds that had Jenny staring at her in amazement and then looking to the sea in shock as the choppy water was seen to fall away from three rising figures.

"Bleedin' 'ell," Jenny said in a manner that she had not used since the women first met.

Vastra couldn't blame her and wished that she had prepared the ground a little more. She really must improve her behaviour in these matters, Vastra chastised herself but it was too late now and she could only grip her companion's hand and plough on, as it were.

The three figures stepped on to the rocky shore and walked in an uncomfortable, lollaping gait to stand before the women. Two appeared to be staring at Jenny, just as she was doing the same in return. The third figure, an obvious leader, spoke to Vastra in that same strange tone. Vastra said something quite firmly and indicated Jenny with her free hand.

Jenny took her cue and bobbed an uncertain little curtsey to the leader, muttering a quiet, "Pleased to meet you," for good measure.

"The honour is mine," the leader said.

Jenny barely suppressed a yelp of surprise and could only manage, "Charmed," in a weak voice.

"My dear," Vastra said, " this is Lurnac."

"One of your cousins?" Jenny muttered to her.

"Indeed. Lurnac is the leader of the local," Vastra chose her words carefully, "tribe of a race that in your language might best be described as Sea Devils."

"Might need a rethink on the name," Jenny said.

Vastra smiled, relieved that her companion was dealing with the situation with such good humour. She spoke to Lurnac at some length and then he bowed to them both before turning away, the other two figures following him back into the sea. Vastra and Jenny watched them go and remained on the shore for some minutes while Jenny stared at the increasingly rough water.

Eventually, she had said, "Always nice to meet family. Now, then, what was that all about?"

As Vastra waited for the Coroner to speak, she was warmed to see Jenny turn to her and smile. Her face lit up with such love that Vastra had to hide her emotion behind a gentle cough before focusing on the Coroner and his first question.

"Now, Madame, you were engaged by Mr Draper to investigate this matter on his behalf?"

"I was."

"And perhaps you could offer some explanation as to your qualifications in this regard."

Vastra did so, stating clearly the more famous cases that she and her colleague had been involved in and hinting at many more besides. Again, the courtroom was abuzz and the Coroner banged his gavel with a little more feeling.

There followed questions about Vastra and Jenny first chancing upon the Sergeant's group and then upon the body itself. Vastra answered all of the questions as succinctly as possible while ensuring that she included all of the facts that might be pertinent to her later testimony.

"And did your reading of the crime scene accord with Sergeant Poole's own?"

"It did not, Sir," Vastra said and waited for the ensuing hubbub to calm once more.

"In what way, Madame?" the coroner asked, obviously annoyed that this simple little hearing was about to be complicated. And by a woman at that.

Vastra took a breath and began, "When happening upon the scene, we saw the body of the deceased lying on the sand, close to the cliff. The sand all around the man was covered in footprints as if from a prolonged and quite fierce struggle. There were two sets of distinct prints, one set apparently made by the deceased, the other by his assailant. The latter showed an unusual and quite conspicuous design, the folly of which made me reconsider the scene in some detail."

"And your conclusions, Madame?"

"That there had, in fact, been no such struggle; that the two sets of prints had been made at different times."

"Your evidence for this assertion?" the Coroner asked doubtfully.

"The marks of the deceased's shoes showed that he had repeatedly trodden in his own footprints, as one would expect in such a struggle. However, never did he step - not for a single instance, Sir - in those of his attacker, whereas that man trod not only in his own footprints but with equal frequency in those of the deceased.

"Moreover, only the prints of the deceased were evident beneath the body once it had been removed. My conclusion, therefore, is that the footprints of the deceased were made first and those of the nailed boots afterwards. Seconds or minutes, perhaps longer, but certainly not at the same time. Hence, no struggle."

Yet again, the extemporised courtroom was abuzz and the Coroner's gavel banged down hard on the table, disturbing Vastra's papers somewhat in the process. The Coroner's scowl deepened but he merely turned back to Vastra and allowed her to continue.

"Such a singular fact encouraged my curiosity even before Mr Draper - the accused in this matter - engaged Miss Flint and I to investigate on his behalf. As such and in the hope of satisfying my spirit of enquiry before the weather destroyed the evidence, I set about studying the scene with a closer eye.

"Here I made a further discovery; a double set of tracks leading apparently to the Shepherd's Path and back. Upon examining these tracks more closely, I found that the man who made them had been walking backwards and that, in point of fact, he had walked backwards from the body to the Path, had ascended it for a short distance, turned and returned - still walking backwards - to the face of the cliff near the corpse. There the tracks vanished altogether at a point that showed marks that may have been made by a rope cast over the cliff.

"Having observed the same, I endeavoured to study the cliff's face itself, to the best of my ability, and discovered a freshly rubbed spot some six feet above the beach that bore parallel scratches such that might have been made by nailed boots. Another rubbed area was visible - though unexaminable - some five feet from the top of the cliff.

"The sand itself showed clear signs of someone having arrived by sea, walking up the beach and to the spot that marked the descent."

Vastra reached for the hamper at her feet and eased out two moulds of not inconsiderable size and weight. She placed both on the table in front of the Coroner, sliding them to safety.

"I took the liberty of making moulds of two sets of footprints, Sir. The first," she indicated each mould in turn, "on the beach and the second, those at the crime scene that matched the footwear of the deceased himself."

"What of Mr Hearn, Madame? Surely you're not suggesting that he flew to his death!"

Vastra ignored his unfortunate tone and withdrew a third mould from the hamper before saying, "You will note, Sir, that I was careful not to describe the second mould as that of the deceased himself, merely that they appeared to match the footwear of the late Mr Hearn? This was deliberate, as I am sure you will appreciate.""

The Coroner obviously didn't appreciate it and certainly not Vastra's tone. She enjoyed his reaction for a moment before continuing.

"I took a mould of my own print," she indicated the third mould, "to help illustrate my point. Mr Hearn was a thin, light man, some two stones and four inches shorter than myself. And yet, as can be seen quite clearly, the footprints that purport to be his own are nearly twice as deep as that which I made."

There was a strange silence from the room in general and the Coroner raised a brow, encouraging Vastra to explain herself more fully. She suppressed a sign of impatience with some difficulty, regretting that most of humankind were somewhat slower on the uptake than her own beloved companion.

"Sir," Vastra said, "it is natural that a smaller, lighter body would make a shallower impression in the sand. Miss Flint - smaller than myself by some margin - leaves what you might term 'dainty' footprints, whereas I leave much deeper, clearer imprints. Therefore, you would expect Mr Hearn to have left noticeably shallower impression than myself."

"And yet he did not," the Coroner said.

"Quite the opposite, in fact. There was one more remarkable thing about the prints purporting to be those of the deceased, Sir; the length of the stride.

"A man of Hearn's height would be expected to show a stride of some three feet, more should he be hurrying. Upon measuring the length of stride, however, I found that the stride was merely some nineteen inches; shorter even than Miss Flint's own."

The Coroner took a moment to consider this and said, "What of this backwards business, Madame? How on Earth can you be sure of that?"

Once more, Vastra reached into the hamper, this time easing out a slightly different block of plaster and placing it before the Coroner.

"From moulds made in the bay, I made casts; this is of the right foot -"

"Pray," the Coroner interrupted her, "explain the difference between a mould and a cast, Madame."

"A mould," Vastra indicated the first three pieces of evidence, "is taken from the footprint itself, it is therefore the reverse of the actual print. A cast is taken from the mould and therefore is a direct representation of the footprint."

"Thank you," the Coroner said, adding pointedly, "for explaining that to the gallery."

Vastra noticed Jenny snicker at the man and couldn't help but agree with her assessment. She simply nodded politely and returned to her point.

"When one walks forward, there is a distinct 'kick off' at the toe and a dragging behind the heel, made when one lifts ones foot in the act of moving. You will note from the mould and the cast that these tell-tale signs are not present in the places that one would expect. In fact, the opposite is true."

Before the Coroner could interrupt her further, Vastra reached back into the hamper and pulled out the final two moulds. Once they were safely in place, she sat back and spoke again.

"Given these findings, I thought it best to investigate the assailant's remarkably distinct footprints. And found that those at the murder scene did not, in point of fact, match those made by Mr Draper's own shoes."

There came a great gasp of shock from the gallery and even the Coroner stared at Vastra for a moment before he took up his gavel once more and thrashed the tabletop until he had restored order. In the interim, Vastra noticed that the Sergeant had paled sharply and was staring at Draper in horror. She felt sorry for the man, given how cleverly he had been tricked and what a good, conscience officer he obviously was. Still, he had made his case based on assumptions and that was rarely a case that holds firm under examination.

When the room had finally quieted, the Coroner aimed his gavel at the two newest moulds and said, "You offer proof of your assertion, Madame?"

"I do, Sir," Vastra began, "I did not have access to Mr Draper's unusual shoes, however there was a clear footprint that he himself had made under my own eye as Miss Flint, the Sergeant, Mr Draper and I walked towards his abode.

"The print had been made in clay and was an exceptionally clear impression, as you can see," she identified one mould, "I made this mould," and then the other, "from a footprint close to where Mr Hearn had been found."

"And they don't match?"

"They do not, Sir."

There was absolute silence in the courtroom now, such a stillness that Vastra's scales rose up uncomfortably under her tightly fitted clothes. She saw Jezzard and Pitford slip from the room but everyone else - including the members of the local Constabulary - were so intently staring at the Coroner's table that they missed their exit. All but Jenny, who cast Vastra a panicked look. Vastra gave a faint shake of the head, hoping that it would be sufficient to still her companion. It was and she inclined her head in gratitude and some wonder that they had such a bond.

Life seemed to gust back into the room and suddenly there was a low chatter all about them. The Coroner was too deep in his own thoughts to quiet the gallery and they were still before he lifted his head to speak.

"Madame, you have cast more than enough doubt on this situation for me to call a temporary halt to proceedings and request that Sergeant Poole resume his investigation. With your assistance, I trust?"

"Of course, Sir."

"Then if you have nothing to add...?"

Vastra thanked the man but declined to say more and the hearing was bought to a hasty - and noisy - conclusion.


	4. Chapter 4

See Part One for story details.

"They legged it, Madame," Jenny whispered to Vastra as they were escorted from the room by Sergeant Poole.

"Yes," Vastra leaned closer to her, "but my cousins will keep watch over them."

Jenny didn't envy them. She'd spent quite a bit of time with Vastra's 'cousins' over the past few days and they were an intimidating bunch. Lurnac had been quite gentlemanly - if such a term might be used for a creature of the sea - but the others had been suspicious at best. Jenny had wondered if perhaps these Sea Devils weren't all that keen on their Silurian cousins and she was hoping to speak with Vastra on the matter at some length when this business was settled.

The Sergeant lead them into a side room where he could close the door on the chattering of the crowd as they left the temporary courtroom. He looked quite shaken by events and Jenny cast him a sympathetic smile.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Sergeant."

"Indeed, Sergeant Poole," Vastra said, "pray, do not be downcast, for this case is most unusual."

"Yet you saw through it quite easily enough, Madame," he said disheartened.

"It's not your usual sort of crime," Jenny offered, "but we've had cases far stranger than this."

She could feel Vastra's glance and knew that her words were something of a lie but Jenny didn't care; the man deserved to maintain a little bit of pride.

"Quite right," Vastra added.

"Well, ladies, your very kind but still," he trailed off for a moment, then cast off his melancholy and said, "Now then, I'd wager you have a good idea of just who was behind this terrible business, do you not?"

"Oh yes," Jenny said, though she had no idea how to impart the information without mention of old lags or ancient sea creatures, "But I'm sure that Madame will explain it better than I could."

Jenny flashed an innocent smile at her lover and waited for Vastra to speak.

"On the contrary, my dear," Vastra neatly deflected, "I have every faith in your abilities."

Jenny glared at the immovable figure and returned her attention to the Sergeant.

"Well, Sir, while Madame Vastra was investigating the footprints and that, I set about learning more of Hearn and his friends. They're moored in the Harbour on a yacht called The Otter."

"This Jezzard character," Sergeant Poole said, "nasty piece of work, I'd say."

"And you would be correct, Sergeant," Vastra said, "But forgive me, my dear, pray continue."

Jenny thought back to the day she had spent watching The Otter and its inhabitants from Lurnac's strange vessel. She had chosen not to ask why creatures that could move so freely in the water would need a submersible for fear that they might tell her what she already suspected. Still, Lurnac had been quite civil, all things considered, and they had bobbed around the yacht , watching Jezzard and Pitford fretting about the weather while Leach and the temporary cabin boy had done all the work about the boat.

When the three men had finally left, Jenny had been set ashore and gone aboard the yacht and here she began her tale for the Sergeant.

"The three men had taken on a fishing boat's apprentice as cabin boy while they're in harbour and I got a chance to speak with him."

"Bet he was surprised to have a lady show up," Sergeant Poole chuckled.

Jenny grinned, "He was a bit but he talked quite freely once he'd settled down."

"And his story?"

"Oh, he had plenty to tell and much of it in accord with your opinion of Jezzard. He also remembered Mr Draper, well his shoes really. He'd been quite put out my the nails, telling me twice over that they could have ruined the deck."

In truth, the boy had been all nervous energy as he talked, his eyes darted over the moorings to check that his temporary masters could not overhear their conversation. Jenny had no doubt that the lad had been beaten for his troubles but then, that was probably a part of his daily life. It was for so many people.

"That bastard took them below deck," the boy had said, "Was down there a fair while too and I under orders to stay out the road so I don't know what he was doing."

Sergeant Poole considered this, "Copying the pattern, yes?"

"Indeed, Sergeant," Vastra said, "Making what I suspect he thought was an exact copy but was, in fact, marred by him miscounting the number of nails in the formation."

"And that shows clear in your mould things?"

"It does."

"And I can tell you where he had the copies made too," Jenny said and recounted the boy's story of Jezzard taking a letter to the Post Office and a parcel arriving at the boat some days later, "The lad doesn't read too well but he has his letters and a good memory; he wrote down what he'd seen and the parcel was from Walker's Boot Makers in London."

"They are known for reproducing shoes once the originals have worn out, Sergeant," Vastra added.

"So Jezzard has Draper's shoes copied and made to fit...?"

"Himself, I believe," Vastra said, adding, "Though I can offer no direct proof of that."

"Indirect?" Sergeant Poole said hopefully.

"Perhaps so."

Vastra nodded towards Jenny who said, "I managed to get on board The Otter a bit later, when they were all ashore."

The Sergeant raised a brow but kept his thoughts to himself and Jenny chose not to tell him exactly how she had known the vessel was empty or who had handed her up the side. Lurnac had been almost invisible in the dark of night and Jenny much the same as she wore her 'work clothes'. She had searched below deck while Lurnac had kept watch above. Every piece of footwear that could be found was thoroughly examined and one pair of canvas shoes had just happened to find its way into the bag slung over Jenny's shoulder. It had been a matter of minutes before Lurnac was handing her down to the harbour and they were disappearing into the water.

"And these canvas shoes, they would be a match for those on the beach, no doubt?" Sergeant Poole said.

"As the last mould that I attempted to offer as evidence will attest," Vastra said.

"You two really are most thorough, ladies, I honour you both."

"And you are most kind, Sergeant," Vastra inclined her head gratefully.

"So," he thought for a moment, "that just leaves the night of the murder. What exactly happened then?"

Vastra again deferred to Jenny and she said, "The cabin boy had been dismissed that night but he returned about a half hour after nine. Mr Draper had already gone home - and straight home at that, Sergeant - but Hearn was just leaving. If you talk to the lad, he'll tell you that Hearn looked worse for the wear, so to speak. The lad rowed himself out to the boat in his little... oh, what did he call it?" Jenny shook her head.

"It'd be a coracle or such," the Sergeant offered.

"That was it, yes. Anyway, he rows up just as Jezzard and Pitford are carrying Hearn into their little boat with Leach left behind. They push off, or whatever it is, and Leach tells him that they're returning to harbour. The lad was surprised by that for, like Mr Draper, he assumed that the four of them would be leaving soon. He thought perhaps they'd had to change their plans because of Hearn being so terribly drunk."

"So that was how they subdued the man?" Sergeant Poole looked to Vastra, "Got him drunk and attacked him on the beach?"

"In point of fact, Sergeant, it was not."

"Then how, Madame?"

"Oh," Jenny grinned, "this is where all that business driving Doctor Burrows to distraction comes in."

"Indeed," Vastra said indulgently and then, "As you know, I insisted on being allowed to send certain samples down to London, samples from the autopsy so thoroughly carried out by the good doctor."

"Aye, and he's still angry about it too."

"Alas, it could not be helped. Still, the results are most illuminating for they offer conclusive proof that Mr Hearn was poisoned with a near fatal dose of morphia."

"He wasn't drunk, he was drugged you say?"

"I do. Indeed, the tests prove it."

"Near fatal?" the Sergeant said thoughtfully.

"Quite, though poor Mr Hearn was probably already dead when the presumed-fatal wound was administered."

"Not enough blood, you see, Sergeant," Jenny said before attempting to restore a little of the man's dignity by saying, "Even I didn't notice it until Madame mentioned the fact."

Vastra took up the tale, "The knife had partially divided both the aorta and the pulmonary artery, as Doctor Burrows confirmed. Such a wound should result in a great deal of blood spilling out into the cavity around the organ. It did not. Moreover, the external wound should have been stained dark with blood, yet there was remarkably little blood-clot in evidence."

Sergeant Poole shook his head sadly, "And I never even thought."

"I doubt you've had much experience of murders, eh Sarge?" Jenny said.

"Happily little, I admit, and I shall be very glad never to see another, God willing." Again, he stopped to think through the matter before saying, "So then, this is what you're proposing: Draper leaves early and returns home as he stated. Jezzard and the others drug Hearn near to death and Jezzard carries him ashore where he stabs him. For show most likely, since he's almost certainly dead already. He then fakes the signs of a struggle and the tracks - proven by your remarkable moulds, Madame - before climbing down the cliff so as not to leave more prints nearby and returning to the boat."

"Exactly so," Vastra said.

"But why not just leave, like Draper and the boy expected?"

"Because they wished to blackmail Mr Draper," Vastra said.

Jenny added, by way of deflection, "Knowing that his acquaintance with Hearn might put him in the way of your investigation."

"Well, the conniving bunch of -" Sergeant Poole stopped himself with a flush of embarrassment and said, "My apologies, ladies, I'm sure."

"Think nothing of it," Vastra indicated the door, "But perhaps we might make haste to the harbour, Sergeant? Jezzard and Pitford left the courtroom some time ago."

"Dear Lord, yes, Madame, yes indeed."

He hurried from the room, calling out to his Constables. Vastra and Jenny followed close behind, rushing to keep up with his lengthening stride. They all bustled outside and came to a sudden halt as a laden cart trundled by. Jenny took the opportunity to pull Vastra down to her.

"What do we do if Jezzard starts talking?"

"I rather thought that your excellent pugilistic skills might take care of that," Vastra said with a gentle chuckle. Jenny smacked her arm but said nothing and Vastra added, "Fear not, my dear."

The cart finally moved out of their way and the Sergeant ran on. The two women both hitched up their skirts and followed, earning themselves startled looks from the more staid inhabitants of Little Sundersley. All three were breathing heavily as they ran on through Port Marsden towards the harbour. The Harbour Master shouted out a warning not to hurry through such a potentially dangerous area but was entirely ignored as the three of them rushed on to where The Otter had been moored.

It was no-longer there and Jenny looked around, "I thought they'd closed the harbour?" she panted.

"They have," Sergeant Poole said once he'd sucked in a deep breath. He turned to stare at the fast approaching Harbour Master, "The Otter, Mr Penton?"

"The idiots cast off not ten minutes past, Sir," he said and knuckled his forehead towards the women, "Beggin' pardon, ladies, but the fools said some very harsh things when I tried to warn them and off they went."

Vastra cast her gaze out across the harbour, privately cursing the ridiculous veil that she was forced to wear. Jenny stepped up beside her and pointed out to the mouth of the harbour. There, a yacht was attempting to fight the oncoming wind and sail out into open water.

"She's listing," Jenny said.

"Heeling, Miss," Mr Penton corrected, his glass to his eye, "and heeling badly too, the fools."

They waited, joined by the smack-master's apprentice whose information had proven so vital to Draper's case and by a small group of chattering sailors and fisherman who clustered on the quayside. Cries of disgust and despair flew around them as Vastra and Jenny watched the vessel fail in its attempt to leave the harbour, pushed back by the wind. A mighty gust pushed them all back a step and Vastra reached out to wrap a protective arm around her companion. A loud snapping sound came from far off at the mouth of the harbour and the assembled crowd gave up a chorus of oaths.

Jenny turned to find many of them shaking their heads sadly and looked back to see The Otter pressed low into the increasingly violent waves. Another strange snapping sound and the vessel appeared to rear up before it tumbled back to the surface and down yet more. It seemed to take only moments before the yacht was barely visible above the troubled water.

Jenny turned again to find that the Sergeant, Mr Penton and many of the other men had removed their various types of headwear and pressed them to their chests in respect. After a brief silence, the chatter resumed and the crowd quickly dispersed along with the Harbour Master himself. Only Vastra, Jenny and Sergeant Poole remained, the latter two sharing a grim shake of their heads while Vastra continued to stare out over the water.

"Madame?" Jenny said.

"Yes my dear?"

"You alright?"

Vastra finally turned and inclined her head slightly, "I am. Indeed," she lowered her voice and leaned closer to Jenny, "this may be the best possible outcome for our client."

"Probably is," Jenny said doubtfully, not sure why her lover was so disturbed by events. She made to turn back to the Sergeant but stopped, her eyes flicking out over the harbour before she whispered, "You think it was your cousins, Madame?"

Vastra sighed, "I do," but said not more.

The return to Little Sundersley's Police House was rather more sedate than their race to Port Marsden. They arrived to find Mr Draper beaming with joy until the news of The Otter's fate was imparted. His face darkened for a moment before a gust of relief cleared the expression away.

"I cannot, in truth ladies, express too much regret for their loss. Though I am very sorry for any family they might have had," he added.

"Oh, it's not much loss to the world," Jenny agreed before saying, "Now let's just persuade the Sergeant to let you go."

That took little persuading and the Coroner was informed of events immediately. There would be a further hearing but not for another week or so, when all of the facts could be placed before the court in an appropriate manner. Vastra and Jenny were informed that they would not be required to attend.

Jenny sighed in gratitude when they finally made it back to their lodging rooms. Mrs Cartwright had been somewhat baleful in her attitude but it had been quickly assuaged by Vastra's insistence that she be allowed to replace the landlady's property with a new hamper of the very best quality that London could provide. Letty was abuzz with excitement but had to make do with a few quick words about the day and then Vastra was closing their door with a most decided push.

The women sank into the seats by the fireplace and Vastra pulled off her veil and gloves.

"Well, my dear, I believe we discharged our duties most satisfactorily."

"I'd say. Draper's a lucky man, all things considered."

"He is," Vastra paused and then said "I am sorry that our holiday was interrupted."

Jenny laughed, "You've had fun, admit it."

"I have and I do admit it but, my dear, you have been physically tested yet again and I would not have had that for the world."

Jenny stood wearily and stepped over to Vastra's chair where she dropped down into her lover's lap. Vastra gave a startled little gasp but quickly wrapped her arms around Jenny and pulled her into her embrace. Jenny tucked her head under Vastra's chin, trying her best to ignore the abundance of material that separated them.

"Thing is," she said into Vastra's scales, "this is what we do and we're bloody good at it - pardon my French - so why would you regret that, eh? I've never minded a bit of hard work and, honestly, it's no harder than being a real maid, believe me."

"Of that I have no doubt but-" Vastra began.

"But you're worried and I love you for it but," Jenny emphasised the word, "you've got to stop. Just you trust me that I'll know when I'm in too deep and I'll trust you to get me out of it. Deal?" Jenny added as she looked up into Vastra's concerned eyes.

"We have a deal, my dear," Vastra said and pressed a kiss to Jenny's lips.


End file.
